


Better Safe Than Sorry

by Milkynubs



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Crushes, Demisexual Sans, Falling In Love, First Crush, Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Phone Sex, Premature Ejaculation, Sensitive bones, Skeleton Ghost Penis, Skeleton Ghost Vagina, Sub Sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milkynubs/pseuds/Milkynubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans falls in love and then falls into the fiery pit of hell (because he sins)</p><p>Demisexual/Demiromantic Sans, romance/emotions kink(shh), confusing feelings, at the end (of chapter 1) there's pillow-humping, masturbation and post-masturbatory guilt.<br/>Light but consensual dom/sub dynamics come into play but the "roles" aren't permanent or anything. I'm really sleepy I should not be posting things right now.</p><p>This work is discontinued! It will not receive an ending and is better used for porn than for story!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. idk im bad with titles here's chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to write smut but i made the backstory too long warning for a lot of Foul Language!! ! i like spicing things up with bad words
> 
> i really love "sans-passionately-and-sometimes-guiltily-masturbates-to-the-reader-whom-he-is-in-love-with" fics and i will probably write more and if i do i'll probably add it as a chapter to this because i'm not rewriting the relationship backstory
> 
> i probably won't write any progression to the actual relationship/story but if you wanna make a fanfic of this fanfic i'll be a fan of you ;))) i mean be my guest

Sex and romance – and interpersonal relationships in general, really – have never been of interest to Sans. He doesn't need them to live a happy life, he rolls his eyes whenever his friends suggest “setting him up”, he sneers involuntarily when anyone even implies the desire to have sex with him, and overall, these were things he didn't want. Were.

He didn't like you at first. Most humans on the surface were not above taking advantage of monsters if not outright insulting or attacking them, so it's better safe than sorry. Even as you continued to spend time with his brother, and with Frisk, and with Tori, and even Undyne and Alphys, he thought you wanted something from them. That you were setting them up to knock them down, that you were treating them like trophies, that you were taking advantage of their kindness, he didn't know what but one of them had to be right.

Until the day you sat next to him on the couch while Papyrus and Frisk were cooking, while respectfully maintaining a distance, and tried to make small talk with him. He rebuffed all your attempts. But despite the temper and impatience he knew you could display with other humans, you just looked hurt and confused.

“...Did I do something, Sans?” You had sounded so heartbroken and Sans turned to you in surprise. He thought you'd just get fed up, just scoff and leave him alone, now he's scared out of his skull that you might cry, he hates making people cry, so he dunks his pride into the trash and drops his aloof act and says, “no, shit, i'm sorry, it's just... humans...” he was struggling for words but he needed to find something because god, ending the sentence like that just sounds like an insulting generalization.  
But to his astonishment, before he could say whatever bullshit popped into his skull, you smiled. “Oh, man, trust me, I know,” you giggle. “Humans, what can you do?” You shrug playfully and Sans smiles genuinely at you for the first time. At this point he's still suspicious that your playful nature is an act, but if it's genuine, he knew he could get along with you.

“yeah, it's just, my friends... my family. means a lot to me and it's better safe than sorry.” You seem to perk up at that particular phrasing. Better safe than sorry. “I totally understand. I'm just glad I didn't accidentally offend you, or anything, haha.” You smile at him and look away shyly after that. He considered breaking the awkward silence with a joke, but before he could think of a good one, or a sufficiently bad one, you stood up. “Well, uh, sorry for bothering you. I just... wanted to know. If I did something. To make you mad, or something. So, uh... I'm gonna make sure the kids don't start a fire,” you gesture to the kitchen and smile awkwardly. He just nods as you walk away. Maybe you weren't so bad. He wasn't going to let his guard down yet, but the way you talked to him reminded him that you were a person. An individual being with a life. Not a soulless apparition born to create trouble for him.

* * *

 

It was a few months later that he actually cared to _know_ about your life as an individual being. This isn't when Sans's attraction to you started. But he did have a crush. An aromantic, asexual crush. Alphys called it a squish. He had a squish on you. When he noticed the way you avoided some topics, or made self-deprecating jokes, he wanted to know what it was about. He wanted to know more about you. Most of all, he wanted to know if you were keeping things bottled up. He knew from experience what keeping shit to yourself does to you. And he doesn't know why he wants to know all these things about you in particular, but the very thought of trying to say anything remotely close to “if you need a shoulder to lean on, i'm here” makes his cheekbones glow and his magic thrum in his rib cage. He can say it no problem to most anyone else.  
He supposes it's because he wants to make sure you know he's not joking, but he just... can't be serious. Relationships are so hard. But when Papyrus caught wind of Sans's “friend-feelings”, he insisted on setting up “one-on-one hangouts” between you and him.

Usually the “hangouts” consisted of playing video games together, or watching TV or movies (he doesn't mind _–_ he enjoys it, really – that you can't help but talk during them, because honestly he'd get bored and fall asleep otherwise), and drawing silly pictures, and telling jokes, and punning at Pap... Everything Sans could ask for in a hangout with you, honestly. And after each “hangout”, before you went home, Papyrus would proclaim that you should return for another as soon as you could, to “maximize” your “friendship power”. Usually Sans loved the way Papyrus phrased these things, as he loved how ridiculous and so uniquely Papyrus it was, but for once it embarrassed the hell out of him.

After you had left, he marched to his room, and without even bothering to close his door, rolled up in his sheets on his bed in a skeleton burrito and hid his face under the pillow.

“Brother? Are you alright?! You didn't even close your door!”

“'m fine bro. just dying.”

To make matters worse, Papyrus thought he was being serious and frantically carried Sans, stuck in his sheet-burrito, to Toriel in her reading space to “heal” him. Now Tori knows about his squish. And because of that, Frisk will know. And because of that, Asgore will know, Monster Kid will know, fucking _Flowey_ will know, _you will know_... He moans in self-pity as Tori makes friendly jabs at him while discussing the outcome of the “hangout” with Papyrus (more or less abandoning the book she was previously reading). Except Tori. Fucking. Called them. _Playdates_. You and him were two grown-ass adults, and he felt like a baby bones all over again, even without Tori's mom terminology.

He knows it's silly to be embarrassed. He just wants to be your friend. But holy fuck.

“just leave me to my skullking, guys.”

Eventually he worked up the courage to tell you, though. It was a couple months after the first playda- no. Hangout. You were staying up all night watching bad movies and you were both really tired. Therefore, Sans didn't have the energy to be embarrassed. But he also didn't really have the energy to put thoughts into words.

“you know, if you like... if you have things you wanna talk about? like, personal things. i'll listen. just saying. n-not like, weird personal things, unless you need to get weird things off your chest, i mean like, if you have a problem, at all, or wanna share something... uh... yeah. it's cool.” Remembering it made him want to slap himself (and sometimes he does).

Little does he know, that night is one of your happiest memories.

You're hesitant to take him up on that offer until a couple weeks later, where you offered to exchange personal stories. _He_ was hesitant to take _you_ up on that offer until you said it's because you wanted to know more about him, too.

You wanted to be closer to him, too.

How could he pass up this chance?

Then it just sort of became a “thing” to talk about your pasts, to play question games, and eventually to talk about what kind of people you 'truly' are, under Sans's ever-present grin and your shy and seemingly perfectly happy demeanor. You were comfortable enough to talk about “TMI” stuff. You even hugged once; wild stuff.

Eventually Sans tells you about resets. He kept it vague at first, until his recurring nightmares returned, and when he admitted he wasn't sleeping well lately you insisted he could tell you anything.

He thought he was making a fool of himself for babbling about what had to be nonsense, but you replied, with genuine concern, “Oh my god, that sounds... I can't imagine... Sans, I'm sorry.”

And when questioned why you believe him, you replied that with a diverse race of people made of magic trapped by a magical barrier in a mountain for who knows how long, resets don't sound entirely implausible.

He felt. So.

Validated.

* * *

 

You'd known each other for a year when you got a romantic partner. A “datemate”, you'd called them. As soon as you told him, he thought he felt something snap in his soul. But he's good at keeping things hidden. He congratulated you, with a shitty pun he doesn't remember because he was basically functioning on autopilot for the rest of that day.

Even though you'd finally gotten comfortable enough with one another to share hopes, dreams, fears, insecurities, even some occasional prolonged physical contact, he put his mask back on. It terrified him. He was back to square one, wasn't he? He'd lost you as a friend. You'd spend all your time with your “datemate” and forget about him. You'd go to your datemate when you need to vent, when you need a hug, when you want to talk about life or make weird human sex jokes, and the thought kept Sans awake all night. You didn't need him anymore. Why hang out with him when you have... whatever their name was. Sans didn't care enough to remember. Point is, he was lazy, a slob, he was weird, his jokes were overused and not genuinely funny, and to humans, he was literally a walking symbolization of death and decay, and your datemate... Sans didn't know what they were like, he didn't even know if they were human or monster, but you were attracted to them, and not to him.

Why... did that bother him?

He thought you were aesthetically pleasing, certainly, but where the hell did these feelings spring from? Why did Sans care whether or not you would caress his skull, hold his skeletal hands, rest your head against his rib cage and see him as anything but a walking, talking Halloween decoration all the while? Touch him out of love instead of doing it as a joke or to satisfy a morbid curiosity. See him as attractive. Handsome. Someone you'd be proud to be seen with.

Sans couldn't recall having ever experienced such a strong surge of envy. If he felt childish before, he felt _infantile_ now.

Sure enough, your relationship kept you busy. But you'd ask if he wanted to hang out when you had free time, and you'd make sure to send him at least one awful meme a day so he wouldn't get “bonely”.

You cared about him. Blatantly, obviously cared for him and the friendship you shared.

It almost made him feel worse, because his jealousy remained, even though it was completely irrational by then.

But life went on, and although he felt an unfamiliar yearning when he talked to you, he was fine.

* * *

 

Your romantic relationship only lasted a little over a month before you broke up. It was relatively peaceful, a simple “this isn't working out”, but you still clung to Sans when he held you as you cried.

He had told you, “forget them, you deserve someone who actually loves you.” And he had thought, ' _...like me._ '

He was glad you weren't looking at his face at the time, because you would have noticed how mortified he was.

He spent the next few days confused. He couldn't be romantically attracted to you. He'd thought about it before, and while it was more comfortable than the idea of dating a stranger, the idea didn't appeal to him. But the last time he'd thought about it was when you had _just_ become close friends.

When he thought about it _now_... it didn't seem so bad? The two of you hugged a lot, but he found himself wanting to kiss as well. The two of you would accidentally fall asleep together sometimes, but he wanted to do it on purpose. You've expressed interest in each other's anatomy, but his curiosity, at some point, became wonder.

Sans knows what love is. He loves his brother, he loves Frisk, he loves Tori, he loves all of his other friends, and he knows he loves you. But how do you know when you are, romantically, _in_ love? Maybe he could bite the bullet and ask his friends. They knew he was aromantic, so he could pass it off as curiosity. But he knew if they asked questions or teased him, he'd give himself away. Thanks to you, he didn't know how to keep his cool anymore. He turned to the internet, instead, and would delete his history afterward.

There were all sorts of different answers. You get a fuzzy feeling; check. You want to always be near them; check. You can't stop thinking about them; check. But what if it was just a more intense squish that he was overthinking? God, he was stressed. He didn't even know what a romantic relationship entailed.

He decided it best to simply not act on it. It would be too much trouble. It'd put your friendship at risk, and if it turned out romance wasn't for him, he'd have to break your heart. He'd stop trying to make sense of his feelings and suppress them instead, then maybe things could go back to normal.

Better safe than sorry.

...

Except he didn't notice when he was doing or thinking things that were a little more than platonic. And when he realized it, he decided being in love felt too good to suppress. He would just let it happen. Let himself yearn. He brought an extra pillow to bed when he slept so he could hold it and pretend it was you.

But eventually it “escalated”, which brings us to the present. It was night, he was in bed, he was allowing himself to fantasize about kissing you, just a little, so he could fall asleep. Then his mind wandered to what it would be like to have you naked underneath him.

Or above him.

His cheekbones glow and he holds his pillow tighter, but the contact sends some kind of... wave of heat, or something, throughout his entire body. It's weird, but not unpleasant, and it causes him to sigh. He wants to feel it again. How would he recreate it...? He's slept with this pillow a lot, and _that_ had never happened. He returns to thinking about you, and he feels a strangely pleasurable ache from his soul when he imagines what you might sound like when he touches you. This time instead of a sigh, it makes him hum. He rolls over so he's lying on top of the pillow and the weird good ache becomes stronger and he shudders, gripping the sheets on either side of the pillow. He imagines exploring your mouth with a conjured tongue and his breathing becomes shaky and his magic is thrumming erratically.

The ache is so much stronger with physical contact, so supporting himself with his hands, he rubs his body slowly against the pillow and oh my god. He whines, but he's too out of it to be self-conscious. He needs more. He holds the pillow tight to his sternum and focuses on moving his pelvis, rocking his hips and steadily gaining speed. It's good, it has him panting, but it's not good enough. So he imagines you.

He imagines kissing you, and then he's humming again.

He imagines you trusting and loving him enough to present your naked body, and he starts grunting in time with his hips.

He imagines you keening and begging as he brings you closer to orgasm, and he realizes he's moaning uncontrollably, but he's too far gone to stop now.

He imagines you sobbing his name as you come, and he experiences something bizarre.

Monsters are made of magic. Magic is an extension of the soul. The soul is heavily associated with emotions, so a monster's magic, and thus also their body and soul and entire being, will react to their emotional state. With such an intense desire, love, passion, adoration, comes an intense orgasm.

He's screaming before he can wonder what the hell is happening. He keeps thrusting with wild abandon as the strong electrical feeling surges throughout his body and grants him nothing but bliss. The only words that can come to mind are “yes” and “so fucking good” and your name, and he's whimpering them as he comes down from his high. He flops down on top of the pillow, his limbs limp and his entire body absolutely spent. He's panting, although slower now, with a legitimately satisfied grin, and he's closing his eyes and preparing for the first comfortable rest he's ever had since _years_ ago.

 ...

Then he registers what just happened, and once again he is mortified with himself.

He could probably pass off his screaming as a nightmare if questioned, but if anyone found out, he would never live it down.

He wants to throw the pillow across the room but he associates it too much with you, so instead he sets it aside and lays down with his back to it and forces his eyes closed and tries to come to terms with the sins he's committed.


	2. love; the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans still hates himself (don't worry, not for much longer)/Toriel is everyone's mom/Say hello to magic ghost weenie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your comments were so nice i couldn't help it i'm writing more (´・ω・`) note that im bad with schedules and planning. idk how many more chapters there will be or when they'll be here  
> yes the chapter title is a song lyric don't say anything about it i don't wanna hear it. unless you have ideas for chapter one's title because i can't think of one  
> anyway sorry this turned into a weird guilt/shame fic, there'll be a resolution though so long as i don't abandon the fic :O hope i don't disappoint

It's morning. Sans hasn't come to terms with his disgust. He couldn't sleep the rest of the night, just laid there as he tried to convince himself “it” was normal and he was normal and not scum of the earth and that you wouldn't hate him. He didn't even notice the sunlight spilling through his window until Papyrus knocked energetically on his door.

“SANS, WAKE UP! MOM IS MAKING A VERY SPECIAL BREAKFAST BUT WE CANNOT EAT UNTIL YOU AWAKEN!” Sans could hear his brother bouncing excitedly from the other side of the door and it brought him back to earth. Despite his exhaustion, Sans, for once, wanted nothing to do with his bed right now, and he slipped on his slippers and trailed behind Papyrus to the kitchen. Last night was nothing, things will go back to normal.

Or so he wanted to believe.

The first thing he noticed when approaching the table was Frisk eagerly staring and drooling at a stack of pancakes, covered in whipped cream and chocolate chips. Upon noticing Sans, they didn't hesitate to dig in.

The second thing was Tori at the stove, who turned to acknowledge him with a “Good morning, Sans.” But what bothered Sans was the sympathetic smile she seemed to give him before turning back to the pancakes she was making. Now he was sweating.

“thanks, bro,” he murmured when Papyrus placed a short stack of pancakes in front of him. All of the toppings were already on the table; butter, whipped cream, chocolate chips, maple syrup, berry syrup, Nutella, peanut butter, ketchup, mustard, relish... Sans had been hungry when he walked in, but Toriel's expression ruined Sans's appetite. Frisk got his attention and signed, 'Are you alright?' Their mouth was full of pancake and there was whipped cream on their cheek, but he had to force himself to smile at them.

“do i look sick? must be runnin' a _femur_.” Sans managed to put his lazy grin back on when Papyrus groaned, Tori snorted and Frisk almost spat out their pancakes from laughing. He forced himself to eat; it was lucky that Toriel was such a good cook.

Breakfast was normal... for everyone except Sans. Papyrus enthusiastically declared that after breakfast, he and Frisk would be going to Undyne's for super-secret extra-training. Meanwhile, Tori kept shooting looks at Sans.

“that's great, bro.” Sans thanks the stars he could keep his voice steady.

“Of course! It was mother's idea, after all!”

It was Sans's turn to shoot a look at Tori – an incredulous one – and hers to look away guiltily. He didn't like where this was going.

“was it? that's cool. well. i should be going to work now,” Sans moves to stand, but Toriel interrupts him. “Wait!”

He and Tori stare each other down a little bit while she tries to find words. Papyrus is glancing between them in confusion and Frisk is preoccupied with seconds.

“It's still early for work. And there's enough pancakes left for seconds, if you'd like.” Toriel smiles warmly. Just as he was about to say he wasn't hungry, Papyrus looked at him and narrowed his sockets.

“Hey, yeah! You're always _late_ to work, not early!” Sans gives in and sits back down. “okay, you got me, i was actually going to,” he avoids their expectant gazes as he pauses, “uh, sit around at my stand to, uh, think of some jokes, but if you're going to be so _sternum_ , i guess i could stay a little longer.” Papyrus groans as Tori and Frisk giggle.

“We don't have to sit here and suffer your puns! We will leave you two to your... _tomfoolery_.” He says the word with distaste as he glares at Sans, who grins smugly. “Come on, Frisk, we must train!” Luckily for Frisk, their reaction time is good enough that they stuff the rest of their food in their mouth just as Papyrus picks them up. With chipmunk cheeks, they wave to their mom and bruncle (Sans _loves_ that word) as they're carried out the door.

Once they're gone, Tori sighs, and Sans bristles, crossing his arms. “well?”

“I can tell you already know what it is I'd like to discuss with you...”

“...”

“...but in case you don't, I heard you last night.” Sans winces.

“it's none of your business.” Tori looks hurt and slams a paw down on the table, surprising both Sans and herself. She mutters an apology before she continues.

“Sans, why won't you let us help you? Why do you keep these things from us?” Sans sighs and takes a moment before responding.

“it wasn't an issue before last night! n-now i just wanna see if it goes away on its own...” He's looking down at his lap with shame.

“If it wasn't an issue before, what were those other times you were up and about and making noise in the middle of the night?”

“those were just nightmares.” He's still looking down and misses Toriel's confused expression as a result. It's silent for a moment.

“...Was that... not what we were discussing?” Sans has experienced mortification several times in a short period, but this takes the fuckin' cake. “...Sans?” Once he realizes she's expecting a response, he nearly knocks over his chair with the speed he stands up and prepares to flee. Toriel tries to grab him, but he teleports just in time.

Honestly, Sans doesn't know if he prefers interrogation or suffering alone. Working at the hot dog stand is hell. He should have stayed home. You've told him about the suggestive nature of hot dogs and the definition of “hotdogging”, and at the time he was like “haha gross” as in “man, sex is weird and so are humans” but now he's like “haha gross” as in “i'm fucking gross and it's pathetic”. Sex jokes aren't very funny now that Sans can relate to them. Instead of gross-out humor, it's just gross.

He can't even force himself to make puns with his customers and he feels like every person who walks by is judging him. Every glance he receives, be it a smile or a scowl or indifference, looks like _“I know what you've done.”_

* * *

Sans has been avoiding Toriel, to the point where she doesn't even have a chance to apologize. He's too scared of the questions she'll ask or the conclusions she'll come to, but she just wants to admit that she was nosy and say 'sorry'. He skips breakfast, teleports to work and back, works overtime (really he's just going to Grillby's and staying until everyone's bed time rolls around) and he hasn't been talking to you as much, either.

You've been wanting to hang out again, but for once Sans replies, “i'm going to be busy.” You tried asking when he'd be free, and he told you he'd take a rain check. You asked if he was okay and he insisted he was, just tired. You asked if it's his nightmares again and he just texts back “yeah”. You told him you'd be willing to listen if he ever needed to talk and he replied “thanks, bud” with a smiling poop emoji.

He likes to chat longer than that. You're a little worried.

Without his pillow, his nightmares really do tend to come back, because thinking of you brought him comfort. He hasn't done 'the thing' again since the first time, so not seeing the harm, he went back to sleeping with it.

* * *

A long time ago, Sans watched human porn out of curiosity. Of course, he thought it was weird. _“it doesn't make sense,”_ he had told you when you were casually discussing it, _“you don't need to tell them 'fuck my tight hole' when they're already doing it.”_  You had both laughed. Now that he has _'sexual feelings'_ for a human, he tried watching again, but no, it was still weird and a little disgusting and kind of hilarious. But now he thinks he gets the thing, the commanding thing.

Now he realizes it's not so much a command as it is a plea, and it makes so much sense, because when he dreams of you begging him to fuck you when he already is, it feels so encouraging. You were just about to come, _for him_ , when he woke up. The shameful, wonderful feeling is present in the form of a throbbing sensation throughout his body, and it's taunting him, daring him to give himself relief. It's so hard to ignore... so he decides not to. He lies on his back, ignoring the pillow this time, and replays the dream in his mind as he touches himself, sternum and pubis and vertebrae, and tells himself that it doesn't make him a bad person because it's a dream. He's enjoying a dream, not a twisted fantasy he created, just something that happened and he's remembering.

It's not really working. He still feels guilty. Until he comes.

Now that he knows what to expect, he can muffle his cries of ecstasy, which he can't help but make because of the strength of his release. He forgets his shame and his morals and as he works himself through waves of pleasure, his world is just you, him and this incredible feeling, this feeling he wants you to experience, this feeling he wants you to feel because of him. It feels like an eternity when he's thinking of you making yourself come to the image of him, but when it ends, it feels too soon.

Again. He needs it again. He needs this moment where his worries disappear and he stops feeling ashamed of his newfound libido.

Fuck pride. He grabs the pillow.

He doesn't know what genitals you have because it's none of his fucking business but he doesn't care what you have so long as he can make you feel good. He cycles through the possibilities as he desperately humps the pillow. Sticking his tongue deep inside you or wrapping it around you for a weird skeleton blowjob, he'll do it if he can hear you moan. He toys with the idea of giving himself a magic vagina and letting you finger him. Most humans have holes, he thinks, so he imagines thrusting into you with a conjured cock, and it's probably his favorite fantasy thus far. So he makes one. He makes one and he seats himself on top of his pillow and wraps his phalanges around himself and starts pumping. It's not uncomfortable because with monsters, intent is everything, but it's still disappointing when he realizes he can't recreate how soft and warm and tight you must be. His eyes are shut tight and his skull thrown back as he thrusts into his own hand.

“ _Ohh, Sans...”_ “hhf...” _“You're so good...”_ “hnn...” _“Please, more...!”_ “hah, hah...” _“Harder!”_ “nnngh...!” He couldn't stop himself if he wanted to. He leans back and supports himself with his free hand, his movements vigorous as your voice in his head chants his name and begs for him to come inside of you and fill you up, and it sends him over the edge. He stifles his shout into a growl as he comes, fantasizing that the fluid spurting from his cock is filling you like you so desperately wanted.

He's still having aftershocks when it's over, but when he opens his eyes he shakes his head in disappointment with himself. Both the pillow he's sitting on and the pillow he sleeps on are splattered with glowing magic ooze. It's sliding lazily down the headboard and there's some on the sheets.

He grabs some tissues and takes a moment to be grateful that his magic doesn't stain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that one evangelion scene where shinji is looking at his cum-covered hand and saying "i'm so fucked up" except it's sans instead


	3. lord of the memes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are memelord/Toriel is still mom/Sans accepts that he's in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea what im doing but im trying my best...!!! (said by both me, while writing this, and sans, while crushing)  
> a couple things i gotta say (as always):
> 
> -sorry if you don't like texts in fics but look at it this way: originally u and sans were going to have The Whole Talk(TM) via text message. this chapter is good in comparison.
> 
> -the main reason i wanted to keep this a oneshot is bc i dont know how i should be writing the reader!! i want them to be as relatable as possible without having them be an emotionless, soulless, flavorless character. so i also gave them my own sexuality (people-who-love-me-romantic and people-who-love-me-sexual but i simplify it as arospec and acespec) so hopefully aro, ace, romantic, and sexual people alike can relate! hopefully. im sorry

< _are u mad at me or s/t? did i do something i would never mean to hurt u i want to make up for_ _it if i did im sorry_

Anxiety isn't fun. It's painful when your best friend stops talking to you and seems to want to avoid you. It makes your stomach twist when you realize that literally any moment you've spent with him could have been a time you hurt him and didn't even notice.

Why would he keep things from you, though? You had thought he stopped masking his emotions around you. He told you his secrets and his feelings and had cried on your shoulder on multiple occasions. What changed that? You couldn't take it anymore and sent the text. He probably wouldn't reply because it was like, 2 AM, but you couldn't sleep until you got it out of the way.

Sans seemed to behave differently since your breakup. After the day he'd held you and comforted you while you cried, he seemed simultaneously more hesitant and more eager to share physical contact. The last time you had a movie night, you ended up spooning him. He had hummed happily and snuggled into you.

You're not as oblivious as people think. The thing is, you have a personal rule about getting your hopes up, and people having crushes on you boosts your ego. So when you consider that he may feel awkward because he has not-platonic feelings for you, you dismiss the thought as soon as it arrives.

The next best assumption you can make is that he feels awkward because he'd be uncomfortable if _you_ had a crush on _him_ , and he doesn't want to give you the wrong idea with physical affection.

You consider reassuring him that you view him only as a close friend, but that would make things messier if he _did_ turn out to have a crush on you.

You groan in frustration. This is why you have the rule. When people are attracted to you, you find it easier to develop an attraction for them, so the very possibility that Sans is attracted to you is making you look back at all the interactions you've had with a different, less platonic perspective.

You scold yourself. If you develop an attraction for your best friend and it turns out they don't even return your feelings, you're probably in for a bad time. You'll allow yourself to want to kiss him, though. Kisses aren't necessarily romantic or sexual. It's not wrong to want to kiss your friends!!! He just... happens to be the only one you're too shy to ask to.

Ugh.

Your phone buzzes and you lunge for it without even thinking.

* * *

 

He hears his phone buzz as he finishes wiping up and he feels his apprehension in the form of a cold, sharp pain in his chest, followed by sweat forming on his skull. He's slow to pick it up, overwhelmed by anxiety. Someone knows. Someone saw and now they're harassing him about it.

...No, it's a text from you, which might be worse. He sits on his bed and checks your message.

 **[memelord]** : _are u mad at me or s/t? did i do something i would never mean to hurt u i want to make up for it if i did im sorry_

The world hates Sans. The world wants Sans to know how terrible he is and sends a sign by changing fate _just so_ so that the person of his affection sends him an innocent and guilt-inducing text right after his filthy actions.

What should he do? He knows you're tired of “it's nothing” and “don't worry about it”, and honestly, he's sick of it too. But he doesn't want to tell you everything. But he doesn't want to lie.

It takes him like ten minutes, but he decides baby steps are the way to go.

< _tibia honest somethins been botherin me n i rly dont wanna talk about it even tho i think i need to_

Your reply is so fast that Sans wants to cry. You're so eager to offer him comfort and sympathy and help and he feels like he's betraying you.

 **[memelord]** : _pls come over sometime soon. its been a while and isolating isnt good 4 u_

< _can u promise not to ask invasive stuff_

 **[memelord]** : _only if u promise u wont bottle it all up_

Okay. Fair enough. He often asks the same of you, after all. Deep breaths. He can do this.

< _ill try to talk to tori about it when she gets home later. when should i come over?_

 **[memelord]** : _whenever ur free i just miss u_

Sans is a blushing mess.

< _aw memelord if u love me just say it ;)))_

 **[memelord]** : _i do :(_

A big blue glowy blushing mess.

 **[memelord]** : _anyway text me when u wanna come chill im goin back to sleep_

< _k sleep good_

 **[memelord]** : _u 2 <3_

That's a heart! A heart!!! Affection via text!!!

He puts his phone away and gets comfortable in bed again. He cuddles the pillow. His shame is replaced with a childish glee and he allows himself to relish in it.

Haha. Relish. He sells hot dogs for a living.

Anyway, Sans tells himself that he's okay and things are going to be okay, and he believes himself for once.

He reminds himself that he's not the filthy animal he thinks he is. He would never hurt you. He would never take advantage of you. He respects your boundaries and cherishes your friendship.

He's in love with you. There's nothing filthy about it.

* * *

 

Sans sleeps in 'til the afternoon, and when he awakens, he finds himself for once not filled with self-hatred. Today is the day Sans figures things out. Well... it'll be the day he _starts_ to. Baby steps. Still, he's determined. He checks the time; Frisk should be home in an hour, Tori should be home not long after, and Papyrus should already _be_ home... Huh, why didn't Papyrus wake him up? Maybe he tried and failed, that happens sometimes. But anyway, all he'd need to do is ask Tori if she was willing to listen and find something to occupy Frisk and Pap. No problem, this is easy...

...he tells himself to try to stop his hyperventilating.

It's probably a good idea to ask sooner than later, so he shoots her a text.

* * *

 

“Hey, you two, Sans and I are going to talk in private. Would you mind playing in another room?” Sans is worried when she blatantly tells them they're going to have a private conversation, since Frisk is a very nosy child.

“Certainly! We can create battle scenarios with our action figures!” Papyrus, however, isn't one to pry, and is pretty good at keeping Frisk occupied.

The door to Papyrus's room is closed and Toriel motions for Sans to sit at the kitchen table. After he declines her offer for a drink, she sits across from him, but begins speaking first. “Before you begin, I've been intending to apologize for sticking my snout in your business. I was just worried.”

Sans is actually pretty surprised by that. He murmurs a 'no problem' and clears his “throat” when she motions for him to say what he needs to say.

“i like _____. like, as in, i think maybe i'm in love...? and i don't know what the hell i should do and i figured you probably have good advice, so...” Sans is too busy avoiding eye contact to notice Toriel's expression gradually becoming more and more gleeful. When he finally does look at her, he flinches. Her paws are clasped together in front of her, her mouth is open in a big smile, and her eyes are practically sparkling.

“Oh, Sans, that's...!” He's quick to look uncomfortable and she takes a moment to force herself to be dignified. She has to think before she starts again.  
“Well, I was only married once, and although it wasn't a loveless marriage, it was arranged.” She looks apologetic. “So I'm afraid I don't have much experience in confessions and dating. However, can you tell me what you wish from a relationship with them?”

“...what i wish?”

“Yes! How long do you want it to last, how committed do you want to be?” The questions made Sans's head spin (metaphorically).

“god, i don't know, it would depend on how it went i guess...? i would hope a while, though...”

“Do you intend to marry?”

“wh- i-... i don't even think i'm halfway to the point where i can decide something like that...” Sans rubs his aching skull. Instead of having questions answered, he's receiving even more questions that he has no idea how to answer. Toriel smiles.

“I don't think it'd be a bad idea. I would recommend marrying one's own best friend.”

“thats not what i wanted to talk about!” Sans is speaking faster than he probably ever has. Toriel apologizes after a chuckle.

“Okay, so you want to know what you should do?” He nods. “And you don't care to rush.” Nod. “Then tell them how you feel and see where it goes from there.”

“...that's it?”

“That's it. What were you expecting?”

Sans doesn't really know what he was expecting. Some more logical steps to take, he supposes, but Tori is more of an emotional kind of person, so it's to be expected.

Well, maybe it's best to solve an emotional problem with an emotional method? Sans nods.

“thanks tori. i'll talk to them–”

“You'll talk to them tomorrow,” she cuts him off. Her tone isn't cold, but it leaves no room for argument.

After a pause, he nods. “tomorrow.” It's not a lot of time to steel himself for all the awkward shit he's bound to say without thinking, but he needs the push.

< _are u free tomorrow night_

* * *

 

His skull is pressed hard against the pillow, his spine arching as he picks up speed in rubbing his phantom clit.

He went to bed early, and as he lay in bed, his mind wandered to what could happen should his confession go well... and now he's fingering his makeshift cunt, after a convoluted series of "what if"s that somehow ended in you eating him out. Instead of being sick with himself, though, he finds humor in it, and it feels great. It feels great to just not judge himself, and to imagine you wouldn't either. After all, you're fairly casual about the subject of masturbation.

He groans remembering the implications you've made that you touch yourself, too.

His toes curl as he comes, his free hand muffling his pleasured moans, and when he's back to earth, he lets himself enjoy the afterglow. If you do it too, then what does he need to be ashamed of?

...Well, maybe he doesn't deserve to feel good, while you do.

He didn't want to bring up "self-love" with you, but maybe he should, because he's tired of shame and sleepless nights. You've told him before that you're willing to listen to him and help with anything, and you wouldn't lie about that.

Now he's really glad he went to bed early, because thinking about what he's going to do and say... he's going to have trouble getting to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing is hard pls hold me (+ write more guilty sans/reader masturbation fics so i dont have to)


	4. labels are more complicated than people realize so i decided to incorporate that into my writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans is nervous, he asks you a question and you respond with an essay.  
> No smut this chapter but Sans is starting to learn that he's not actually gross, which is what we all wanted, I think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when i said this wasn't an educational fic on asexuality haha well actually, i changed my mind,
> 
> i mean i planned on having the telling-sans-about-asexuality part but i didn't when this was a one-shot so. idk. sorry if you didn't want education but you have no one to blame but yourselves, probably (i'm only saying that because i'm nervous, i haven't updated in days and when i do there's no smut and reader might be harder to identify with??? please don't hate me i should at least update faster next time heh)

Sans isn't fucking ready for this. He's been to your place before, and you've been to his home countless times, but this time it feels like he's preparing to meet royalty. Which is funny, considering his adoptive mother is a former queen, and his former employer was a king, and that's never affected how casually he interacts with them.

It's ridiculous for Sans to feel like he has to impress you, but everything from what he wears to what he says could impact your response to his... interest? He still doesn't know what he wants with you. What kind of relationship, what kind of response, he's thought it over and he still doesn't have answers.

He supposes the best case scenario is one where you become datemates? Then from there he could possibly, someday, graduate to just “mate”? What about “bondmate”? “Soulmate”? “Soulmate” is probably appropriate for if you, uh, get married.

Toriel thinks he's just anxious because he's self-conscious or just worried you'll reject him, but she doesn't know the half of it. Sans is terrified. He's terrified of there being no more resets because he could royally fuck this up. He could offend you or hurt you or end up in a relationship that one or both of you don't want, and he won't get another chance.

He doesn't know what's going to happen, and it's such a foreign feeling, because in the Underground, none of the decisions he made really mattered. Everything he did, everything he said, it could be done over and over, and it had no lasting affect. He said all of his “lines” perfectly all the time, because he had many times to try again. But now? He's had to stop telling you jokes lately because just the sight of you makes him forget the punchline and he ends up making a complete fool of himself. By telling you about resets, he had given you knowledge of his worst fear, and it's changed how you interact with him; you're much more sensitive towards him, and avoid the topic of time travel. If he were to prank you and it went wrong, you could get injured, or otherwise hate him for the rest of your life. Every little thing matters.

What he says to you today can and will change his life. Probably forever. Whether you reject him or return his feelings, whether you get angry with him or let him down gently, it'll change the rest of fate. It'll change how every event of his everyday life occurs, slightly or greatly, for better or for worse.

But he's also terrified of the possibility of there being more resets. He's made so much progress by opening up to you. He's told you everything he couldn't even tell his brother. And if you _do_ return his feelings, there's always going to be a fear in the back of his mind that he'll wake up and all of his happiness, all of his progress, all of his hopes and dreams and his entire future, will be torn from his grasp. It would kill him to have to “meet” you again, but he also desperately doesn't want to forget you, because everything about you changed his life. You gave him new perspectives, you gave him a reason to wake up in the morning, you gave him feelings he didn't know he was capable of experiencing. Neither Frisk nor Flowey should be able to reset anymore, but they're two anomalies that appeared in close succession. Too close for comfort. There could be another anomaly out there and he wouldn't have any idea until it was too late.

Sans wants to cry. Sans wants to curl up and wail. It's been a while since you've held him and told him it was going to be okay, that you were there and wouldn't forget him. He hopes you'll still do that for him after today.

* * *

You and Sans are finally going to hang out again, and you decided it needs to be perfect. Before, the both of you would go with the flow, but now, you felt it necessary to prepare, to make sure he has a good time so he won't hate you.

You didn't have any proof that he was upset with you, but it's worse to just assume everything is okay only to find out you are an oblivious jerk, so, you know. Better safe than sorry.

You find yourself making cookies from scratch. The cleanup involved in cooking is tedious but cookies make _eve_ _rything_ a good time. Or at least a better time. Like, cookies won't make funerals a happy event, but it'll lighten the mood.

While they're baking you pull up lists of terrible movies on the internet. You need something that isn't so terrible it's boring, but also isn't interesting enough that you won't want to chat meanwhile. Also you, uh, need to check online for triggers. After all, what's a better way to ruin a good time with your good pal than with an anxiety attack?

One of the times you went to Tori's, everyone gathered to watch a (not terrible) movie. Undyne and Alphys were there, Toriel invited Asgore after some begging from Frisk and Undyne, Frisk held Flowey in a pot on their lap, Mettaton made time to come watch it even though he wasn't in it, Undyne invited some fellow ex-royal guardsmen, including many dogs and a couple of big beefy guys... It wasn't a special occasion or anything; the invitations just got out of hand. The point is that there were a lot of people. And so it made it all the more humiliating and traumatizing when a scene _that had no real action, suspense or climax_ was the one scene to make you grab the nearest person (you don't even remember who) like a lifeline, curl up in a ball and start whimpering like a miserable animal so that you could hear anything but what was going on around you.

Tori had swept you up into her arms and brought you to the kitchen, sitting at the table so she could rock and hush you. Frisk, Asgore and the skeleton brothers didn't hesitate to come see if you were alright, and pretty soon everyone else was standing in the kitchen archway with concern. They, as in your friends as well as some complete strangers, had paused the movie to come make sure you were okay. To this day you still feel embarrassed for making them worry over nothing. Frisk had signed, 'We could do something else,' and when you said you didn't want to ruin their fun, pretty much everyone said that they didn't care about the movie and would rather do something you enjoy.

The dogs wanted to teach you how to play poker, but Frisk brought out some board games. Mettaton was really into charades, which was Doggo's favorite game since the movement meant he always knew what was going on. Greater and Lesser Dogs had very soft fur and were extremely friendly; they were, however, about to fight for the right to lay in your lap. With spears. Everyone assured you they were only playing after you'd panicked, but Sans still jokingly scolded the two for "scaring the human" before taking your lap for himself. Asgore, Tori and the married dogs recounted the '98 Nose Nuzzle Championship; Asgore and Toriel may not be on the best terms now, but it was still a happy memory. Everyone, even Flowey, took turns arm-wrestling Undyne (who won against everyone) and Alphys demonstrated “Pocky Game,” which led to a sweet moment between “01” and “02”. Sans “accidentally” fell asleep in your lap and hindered your movement when you were starting to say you should probably be getting home. All in all, it was actually a nice day...

...Despite your episode, it was a very fond memory. Everyone always checks reviews for a movie or watches it beforehand when they invite you now. You know it can take a lot of effort to look out for obscure triggers, so you're really grateful. And still embarrassed.

Now you have the cookies baking and a few shitty movies picked out. You do a quick check to make sure you have ketchup. You do. Thank god. You'll make popcorn when he actually gets here, since it takes like, two minutes? You don't actually know because you always press the “popcorn” button on the microwave, but it's quick and easy and better when fresh.

While the cookies are cooling, you decide to clean, but it doesn't take you very long. Despite your desire for things to be “perfect”, Sans isn't one to notice if you've missed a spot while dusting, much less care about it. You aren't worried about putting away anything that might be considered “private” because you and Sans are pretty open about everything. Like, he's asked you before what it feels like to take a shit, and you've answered him. So... you guess you're done? The fundamental part of hanging out is talking to each other, anyway. Or sitting in a comfortable silence. There's really not much planning you _can_ do unless you want to take all the fun out of it.

You make a note to yourself to try to make a pun out of “fundamental” when Sans is here.

Sans texts you when he's about to show up, and you wait by the door. You've told him in the past that he can just teleport inside if he wants, but he insists on making his entrance with knock-knock jokes.

* * *

Sans managed to force himself to shower and put on clean clothes, to Papyrus's shock. He considered borrowing Papyrus's cologne, too, but he probably already seems like he's trying way too hard by smelling like soap and wearing something without stains. He does wear slippers, though; some bunny slippers you gave him one day out of nowhere. You'd said they made you think of him and you bought them on a whim. He wasn't _attracted_ to you at the time, but he still wore them every day since then because of how thoughtful the gesture was, and now they're steadily growing in sentimental value to him.

He's in deep. So deep that he blushes looking at bunny slippers. So deep that he feels guilty when they get dirty, and he actually washes them. So deep that he panics when he thinks he's misplaced them, and spends ten minutes just feeling relieved when he finds them.

God, what is he going to say to you? Should he play it cool, or should he be honest and tell you how pathetic he is?

It's now or never, he thinks, since he wouldn't be doing this if not for Tori's urging anyway.

Wait! Maybe if he flirts a little bit, he can gauge your reaction...? Ugh, fuck it. He texts you that he's on his way and thinks about what joke he's going to enter with. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as he _doesn't fuck it up_.

* * *

This is it.

There's no turning back now.

This is the moment of truth.

Don't you _dare_ ruin this, Sans.

Say it.

They're waiting, say it!

Stop being a coward and get it over with!

He sighs. He can do it. He's prepared.

Knock knock.

“Who's there?”

“al.”

“Al who?”

“al give you a kiss if you let me in.” Your giggle helps him relax, and he winks at you when you open the door.

“How can you kiss me without any lips?” You step to the side to let him in and cross your arms in mock skepticism.

“you wanna find out?” He waggles his weird skeleton eyebrows at you and hopes you can't sense his fear. You laugh again, and Sans doesn't know whether that makes him relieved or disappointed.

“You're a nerd. Anyway, I baked some please-don't-hate-me cookies and I've got some movies picked out. Shall we get down to business?”

Okay, he's been over this. 'first, tell them you have something to say.' “let's.” 'no, oh my god, you _idiot_.'

* * *

You're probably halfway through the movie and you can tell that something's been on Sans's mind since he got here, but you had promised not to ask. It kind of hurts, though. It hurts that he might be hurting and you can't really do anything about it.

The two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch instead of laying on top of one another and shoving your feet in each other's faces. You're the one making most of the jokes throughout the movie and he's mostly faking chuckles. He's staring at the screen but he's not reacting to a damn thing and his pupils never move. Every now and then he sighs, but when you ask if he's bored or something, he uses the “tired” excuse again. If you weren't already suspicious, the fact that he's not even trying to relax or fall asleep would tip you off that he's lying. He likes to fall asleep on your couch.

Now, though, you catch him glancing at you periodically out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes he looks like he wants to say something, then he sighs and shakes his head. You're sure that if you mention anything to him he'll probably just go back to hiding, so you keep pretending to be focusing on the screen while also trying your best to look uninterested in it.

Eventually, your patience rewards you.

“hey.”

“Yeah?” You probably look too eager when you turn to him, but he's avoiding eye contact anyway.

“i gotta ask you somethin'.”

“Shoot.”

He takes a moment. Looks around. Sighs. He keeps his eyes on the TV screen.

“... what does it mean... when someone who thought they were aro and ace feels attracted to someone?”

Ooh! Not only is this interesting, but you have the knowledge to actually help with this!

“It means they're attracted to someone. Their identity doesn't change unless they decide it doesn't suit them anymore.”

“but... doesn't being attracted to someone mean you're not asexual?”

You turn off the TV and he looks scared until he notices you have your “tirade face” on. He snickers and makes a show out of grabbing the popcorn.

You're ready for this. You're always ready to ramble.

“There are so, so many ways to be aromantic and asexual. It's a big ol' spectrum. It's a sexuality. An orientation. It's a label that you put on a feeling, but feelings are unique to everyone and it's impossible to make a new word to describe every individual person's thoughts and experiences. The label is there to help people understand, but it doesn't mean any one thing.

“Some people identify as asexual because they aren't interested in sex. That's valid. What is also valid is that someone is asexual because they don't experience sexual attraction toward people. Maybe they like the feeling of sex, or the idea of sex, maybe they wish they could have sex with fictional characters, but they just don't find people appealing.

“There are asexual people who have sex. There are _hypersexual_ asexual people, because one's desire for sex doesn't necessarily change who they want to have sex with and vice versa. A person's libido doesn't invalidate their identity, or at least it shouldn't.

“There are asexual people who like sex, hate sex, or are completely indifferent to it. There are aromantic people that want romantic relationships, but simply can't feel romantically interested in anyone. There are people who very rarely experience attraction, but may choose to identify as asexual or not asexual or even demisexual. There are people who only feel sexual attraction to people they're romantically attracted to, and for some it's the opposite. There are people who experience sexual attraction that are repulsed by sex, people who aren't asexual but are abstinent for one reason or another. One's views on sex are different from one's attraction toward others, and that's something non-asexual people seem to have a lot of trouble understanding, and it really kind of sucks sometimes. It's tiring to explain over and over again. It's normal to be attracted to someone, and it's normal not to be. It's a different experience for everyone.”

You let yourself get comfortable on the couch and stare at him, hoping he responds before you do the “and another thing” thing.

He's staring right back at you, looking stunned; the lights in his eyes are tiny, but you can tell they're making a shape. You've seen them turn to stars before, but right now they look like hearts. It's cute. “wow,” he says.

"Did ya like my lecture, Mr. Bones?" You reach over and poke one of his cheekbones.

"i... like when you talk." He looks immediately embarrassed. It's cute.

“Great, 'cause I'm known for the occasional tirade, as you know." You scoot closer to have a better look at him. His eyes are definitely nerdy little hearts. "I love when your eyes do that, by the way.”

“... do what?”

“Change shapes.”

“... they _what_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i probably shouldn't stop there but eh cliffhangers are cool nowadays right?  
> like comment and subscribe if you know what it's like to have a phobia that makes you unable to enjoy things :):):)


	5. i get off on you getting off on me (getting off on you getting off on me getting off on you getting off on me getting off on you getting off on me getting off on you getting off on me getting off on you getting off on me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to summarize whatever the hell I just wrote. I'm sorry. Enjoy the awkwardness, the sin, and my limited vocabulary.  
> Possible good summary: Sub!Sans. A sub sanswich, if you will.  
> I don't wanna go too overboard with dom/sub dynamics since I know it's not a comfortable thing with everyone, but I do wanna say that pretty much all smut that I write should be assumed to involve safe words, established boundaries and aftercare (if necessary) because while there are some interesting fics with unhealthy dynamics, I value healthy relationships with my life................

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told myself i cant go to bed until i finish the chapter so i'm sorry if it's terrible i....usually edit my chapters and i still did but i'm too tired to care much ya feel me?? but yeah reminder that i don't have a damn clue what i'm doing with this entire fic
> 
> it's actually late in the morning but my sleep schedule is like, nonexistent ayyyy

His eyes do _what_.

“sh-shapes? like what?!” He's already blushing deeply; he can feel it, and he can feel it intensifying when you respond with a giggle.

“You mean it's not on purpose? That's so cute, holy shit!” You're practically cooing over him, and Sans is having a hard time trying to figure out whether or not he likes that.

“okay but, what shapes...?!” His voice cracks a bit and he winces. Around you, he pretty much embarrasses himself by existing...

“Chill, Skeleman. They're not doing it anymore, but–“

“what shapes...”

“– _but_ , usually they make stars.” He was about to sigh with relief; he could pass that off as a completely platonic awe. But you kept speaking. “Just now they were hearts, though. God, that's ridiculously cute.”

He leaps off the couch and looks around in a panic. He can't deal with this. He's put himself on the spot and he needs to get out of it... but you grab his hand and yank him back onto the couch before he can disappear.

“Hey, don't go ditching me! If you have a problem with me calling you cute, just say so! If you want to leave, say goodbye!” Your pout is clearly exaggerated, but the look in your eyes gives away your hurt, and the way you're still grabbing his hand makes it clear you don't want him to flee. God, that's what he was going to do, wasn't he? Just give up without saying a damn thing because he was scared in a situation he wasn't prepared for.

Why can't he get his shit together? Why do you do this to him?

“i like when you call me cute and that's the problem!” He allows himself to blurt at this point, because there's no way he can salvage this and confess elegantly. He doesn't have the courage to keep going until you urge him, but when you do...

“Explain.”

...he can't stop himself.

“i l-like you! like, uh, romantic, and also, um, s-sexual, but it's okay if like... you want one without the other?” He's talking fast, eyes darting everywhere but to you, hands gesturing as he speaks as though he's trying (and completely failing) to make it casual. “i mean more than anything i'd really like to be your datemate – no, more than anything i just want to be friends, like, forever, if that's okay, but uh – out of, um, being mates or friends with benefits, well, the reason i wanna have sex with you is because i love you anyway,” he freezes upon realizing the gravity of those last few words, but doesn't hesitate to try playing it off.

“i mean i _think_ i love you?! i mean, for sure i love you like i love pap and frisk and tori and undyne and alphys and everyone but i also love you as in like, i'm _in love_ with you and i was confused about that for a while because, ugh, how the hell are you supposed to know if you're in love or just really like someone? but i thought about it a lot and i really want to kiss you and be with you for... for a long time, and whenever i think about s-sex with you it's driven by, uh, it's- it's because i want to be close to you and make you f-feel good, and i uh... really, really like the thought of us, just, being... vulnerable together, ya know? o-only if you wanted it though but...” Get to the god damn point, numbskull.

“but anyway i'm scared! i'm so fucking scared, ____, because i know i'm a skeleton, and i know i'm not funny or charming or whatever, and i know thinking about you like that is really fucking gross, i'm so sorry, but also i'm scared if we try to, ya know, _be_ something, that something will go wrong and i'll lose you, and... and...”

He trails off when you interrupt him with a hug. You hold him tight and nuzzle into his shoulder, and he returns your embrace; gently at first, but then he's holding you back even tighter as though he can't get close enough to you. Tears start to flow when you rub his back.

“i'm sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He has no response for that; he wants to say he does, because he feels so _wrong_ , but he's already explained that his behavior is out of love, and he doesn't regret falling in love with you, and he doesn't feel guilty for wanting to be more intimate with you. He feels pitiful for crying, but he craves your comfort so much that he doesn't bother to bite back his sobs.

“i love you.”

“I...” The both of you tense and you pause. “...I can't say that I feel the _exact_ same way, but I love you too.” His hold tightens. Was that a rejection, then...?

“I mean, um, I'm... _interested_...” ?!?! “... but I-... I'm scared, too.”

* * *

“... what of?” He pulls back to look at you, finally able to look you in the eyes, and when he does, his eyes are hearts again. You blush and don't bother trying to hide the smile it brings you; though still trembling and teary, he returns it.

“Well, uh, I can't say the idea of a reset isn't really scary, even if I end up forgetting everything. I... think forgetting is something I'm scared of. But that'll be there whether or not we. Um. _Bone_.” You try to lighten the mood, but it seems to upset him.

“no, i, i told you it doesn't have to be like that...”

“I know, I know! I was joking. But, ah, well, I don't want to lose you either and... you know,” your smile becomes a sad one. “Even though we ended on good terms, my ex and I never talk anymore.”

Sans nods in understanding.

“we uh. would have to talk about it, huh? i mean, us.” You nod in response.

“Definitely. I don't think that... now's the best time, though.”

“heh, yeah.” He sounds relieved, but his expression looks a bit pained.

“But I do _want_ to.” Your hands rest on his shoulders. “I just need to think, okay? And by the way, you _are_ funny and charming, that's kind of your 'thing', I'm actually surprised you think otherwise, ya ding-dong.”

You can tell he doesn't know how to handle the compliment; the truth. His eyes are hearts again briefly before his sockets go pitch black; he's trying to think of how to respond, but he can't. Free him.

“You don't need to say anything. We can talk about it when we're, uh, ready.” _“When we actually know what we want,”_ you want to say, but he probably catches your drift. He nods; the lights in his eyes have returned and he's alternating between gazing at you and glancing away. You... pretty badly want to tease him over how adorable he's being, but since he already almost bailed over it, you manage to resist.

He clears his throat.

“now that we're done being,” he shakes the popcorn bowl, “ _corny_ , let's get back to whatever the hell we were watching, yeah?” He grins and winks and you snort. Even if he's forcing it to ease whatever awkwardness you've both unleashed, it's good to see him relaxing a bit once more.

He's back to making jokes. It's your turn to be a little quieter throughout the film, because holy shit you just realized you're pretty sure he said _he wants to have_ _ **sex**_ _with you._

Oh shit, what if he _jerks off_ to you. What if he jerked off to you this morning and that's why he's so uneasy and self-conscious. What if he gets wet dreams about you? What if you're the only thing that can turn him on, the only thing he can come to, the only one that stirs up such a strong passion in his soul, the number one object of his affection (and lust)...

Needless to say, it's a little uncomfortable because you're 1. turned on to a probably noticeable degree, and 2. kind of a freak.

“welp, better get goin'...” He trails off as he says it, back to avoiding your gaze. It's pretty late now. He seems both reluctant to go and eager to leave, and the implications behind that don't help with how hot and bothered you are.

At the very least you won't let him feel guilty about it...

“I'm going to say something that neither of us are going to want to comment on, so feel free to book it after.”

Sans immediately looks on edge and his “'kay” is barely audible. He sweats as you plan out how to phrase it. It's not possible to make it completely casual and comfortable, but you can at least _try_ to be tactful.

“Don't worry so much about wanting to _bone_ me. Honestly, it's a huge ego boost, so keep it up.” You look him dead in the eyes as you say it. It's a little hard to read exactly what he's feeling, but he looks pretty stupefied, and he disappears in a flash of magic.

He's so cute that you can't even feel embarrassed for basically encouraging him to get off to you. What you _are_ ashamed of is the idle observation seemingly out of nowhere that in a sexual power dynamic relationship with him, you would probably be “the 'dom'”.

You're going the fuck to bed.

* * *

Sans took your parting words to heart. Or more accurately, to soul. To be specific, to magical phantom soul-cock.

He could feel the tension. The unmistakable feeling of sexual arousal and frustration that he could sense from your soul. He's infinitely thankful that, despite the _glorious_ pun potential (puntential), he doesn't experience “boners”, because he would have had a rager.

He's _immensely_ horny, but despite that, he takes the time to put his slippers away with tenderness; in a place and position where they aren't facing the bed, so that they don't have to witness the steamy solo skeleton self-love session that's about to occur. He locks his door and kicks off his pants.

Although humiliating, your... “reassurance”? Was a blessing. He's going to wank himself into a coma and he's going to feel _good_ about it because you (kind of) said you _liked_ it.

He's naked with his shirt stuffed in his mouth to muffle his imminent screaming. His cock's out and dripping and throbbing in a beg for attention (specifically yours, but it's just going to have to settle). He starts out with a few slow and careful strokes, sighing into the bunch of cloth he's biting on and intending to take his time. But as soon as he remembers that _you_ were _turned on_ near him, probably _because_ of him, his body more or less decides to do its own thing; he's positioned above his sin pillow, hunched over, one arm supporting him as the other frenziedly strokes his cock. Pre-come is soaking his phalanges already, leaking out and onto the pillow, some of it spurting a fair distance as though he were already coming. His grunting is heavy and nonstop; without the shirt gagging him, his moaning would surely be heard throughout the house.

He's already coming within a minute. Just a minute and Sans is spilling his seed all over the bed and releasing muffled shouts and growls, his tongue conjured and threatening to force the shirt out so it can loll out of his mouth so he can flex it. His hand is tight around his cock and is milking him mercilessly through his orgasm, huge shots of come making a disgraceful mess that only spurs him on.

His hand isn't stopping. His body is pretty much doing the work for him, leaving him the energy to use his imagination. The pressure of his hand brings to mind the image of you sucking his cock as hard as you can, as though trying to swallow as much of his come as possible, sucking like a straw trying to drain him of all he has. The thought has him fucking his hand, thrusting feverishly into his fist, dick brushing against the pillow. Occasionally there's a wet, lewd noise, thanks to the abundance of lubrication; he imagines them occurring while pounding into you, a pleased gasp from you following close after, and he's coming again. He growls and his tongue presses hard against the fabric of the shirt, needing to loll out, curl up, lick something, taste something, do anything. The pillow is coated in his come, and all he can think of when he looks at it is how much better it'd look on you instead.

It's getting harder to keep himself steady; there's some come on his ribs and sternum from leaning into the pillow for support, and he's beginning to dread the cleanup, so he lies on his back, not intending to stop yet.

He continues, visualizing you with a sultry expression. Naked, on all fours, entrance looking more than ready to be fucked. You look back at him with inviting eyes, granting permission to mount you. God, does he want to mount you, be above you, but not dominate you, no. He would fuck you because you _let_ him fuck you, because he's been good, because you think it's amusing how he can't seem to slam into you with enough strength and vigor to be satisfied with himself.

He looks back on all the times he's thought “I hope they never find out” regarding his dirty little secret, and would laugh if he wasn't so preoccupied. Now the thought of you walking in on him is bringing him closer to the edge. The thought of you licking your lips at the sight. The thought of you apologizing and leaving the room, flustered, before going to please yourself to the memory. The thought of you making jokes about it or teasing him. The thought of you playfully calling him naughty. You coming to help him out. You insisting he let you watch, and _refusing_ to help. You affectionately pointing out how pathetic he is, laying in bed and sticky with his own come and sweat. You instructing him how he should continue, calling him a “good boy” when he complies...

He comes five times, thick ropes of magic shooting onto his bones, before passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note that reader probably won't be able to be as mean as sans is imagining (at least not genuinely), i just decided to make him into it, but i love teasing so there will probably be as much of that as i can fit
> 
> anyway man it would suck if sans's cum could dry up and get crusty. an awkward *load* of laundry (this isnt foreshadowing to a later chapter i don't think i could handle that level of humiliation sorry)


	6. filler up (get it, because it's a filler and also theres a lot of cumming)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after: Apparently, Sans takes pride in being messy, and I'm not talking about trash tornadoes. [winks multiple times]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it's short and has no progression to the "plot", i figured this would be better off as its own chapter or added onto the previous one i still have no idea what i'm doing but this was fun to write so i hope you like it. sorry. (´・ω・`)

Sans beelined for the shower when he woke up in the morning, confusing the rest of the household, and took his time cleaning up. That meaning he jerked off some more. He didn't mean to at first, and he _did_ end up washing himself thoroughly (thorough for him, at least), just... he's naked and alone in a room where people can't just barge in, hidden behind a shower curtain with the sound of running water to hide his hissing and panting. How can he _not_ take advantage of that?

Can magic jizz clog drains, he wonders? He's coming enough to bottle the stuff, so that would _suck,_ he thinks, snorting at his pun with a self-satisfied grin; he had just came to an exceptionally _steamy_ (heh get it because steam from a hot shower, he's on a fuckin' roll this morning) blowjob fantasy, after all. Fuck, would you swallow? Shit, what if he could come all over your face? Fuuuck. He wants to cover your beautiful body with his come until you're soaked in it - "hff, hahn..." - and make a big hot passionate _mess_ with you. Maybe he could come all over himself and you'd lick it off... He decides to aim at his face while he blows his next load; he's in the shower, anyway. God, he could come all fuckin' _over_ the shower... it would be so easy to rinse... When he's done with his face, his next priority becomes the shower wall. Your voice, husky with arousal in his mind, gently chides your "cute dirty boy" for being so messy with a teasing lilt; it makes it all the more satisfying to splatter the walls.

" _fffuck_ yeah..."

...

Although he can sense temperature, he doesn't experience discomfort from it, so before he knew it he had stayed in there for two and a half hours (and wouldn't have stopped yet if it weren't for Papyrus knocking on the door with concern, followed by Frisk needing the toilet).

He makes sure to rinse any Sans Residue before getting dressed and letting his nibling have the bathroom. Yeah, nibling, it's niece and nephew plus sibling.

Thank fuck his magic is easy to clean.

He walks through the living room on the way to the kitchen while the kid's got the bathroom, and Toriel greets him from her seat where she is reading a newspaper. Papyrus is in front of the TV watching the commercials. Damn, Sans is gonna need everything in the fridge to be able to use more magic after _that_...

...He's stopped when Tori speaks up again.

“I'm hoping last night went well?”

“better than i thought it would, yeah.” His grin is a little bit proud.

“Good, good.” She buries her snout deeper in the newspaper. Is she even reading it? “You were showering an awful long time. I was worried you'd gotten a _stroke_.”

Sans furrows his brow. “isn't that a human thing, though? why would–” he's interrupted by her poorly contained snort. Aw, shit. “seriously, tori?”

“Are you two making puns?” Papyrus turns to glare at them.

“mom's being a _jerk_.” Toriel is suddenly howling with laughter. Papyrus groans and escapes to his room, but everyone knows he just does that so no one catches him smiling.

“D-do you,” she's still in the middle of chortling and trying to get herself together as quick as she can before she can forget her joke. Sans crosses his arms in anticipation, feigning disapproval. “Do you have something you n-need to... _get off_ your chest?” That has both of them in stitches.

“have you been researching slang while i was in there or something?”

“No, I did that a long time ago. When I saw someone say 'choke the chicken', I had to know what else there was!” They're both snickering. “My favorite is – _hee hee_ – 'hold the sausage hostage'.”

“oh my _god_.” It's too rich. She recites some more as though going through a list, and Sans is nearly in tears, both from laughter and humiliation, because this is _Toriel_.

They have to stop when Frisk returns, but have a brief whispered conversation in which Toriel assures him she hasn't heard anything and was just making an assumption based on the odd behavior. Thank god. But also, fuck. He could have denied it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again i'm sorry i know it's a super disappointing chapter length i am trash!!! i need to pee, also


	7. finally (some action/finally an update)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The excitement of a new relationship!
> 
> P.S. headcanon that soul bonds can also be platonic and/or polygamous, 'cause I love bonding and “soulmate” stuff but I'm not much for things that suggest that platonic or poly relationships can't be as loving, passionate or fulfilling as a romantic/monogamous one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh hi so remember when i promised in the comments "new chapter by the end of april" and now it's april 30th 5 pm pst
> 
> yeah that's probably the last time i promise a deadline. i hope you like the chapter. i skipped most of the relationship stuff (besides obligatory mentions of boundary-setting bc healthy stable relationships are Radical) because this was mostly intended to be a smut fic but if i get ideas i might write connected one-shots (and you're free to write some of your own if this inspires you)
> 
> um the end chapter notes are kind of a vent/rant. you can ignore it if you want, i kind of figured i'm allowed to because hey i provided content i can complain about life in my notes if i want right? right???? again you can ignore it. the summary of it though is: my mental health is pretty bad and i'm very stressed. i still want to write but i will probably focus on one-shots and self-indulgent fics. none of my fics are dead or abandoned unless it says so in the title/description/etc, i'll make it very clear when i drop a fic, i'm just very slow to update.

The day after Sans's ridiculously pathetic confession (ridiculously sweet in _your_ opinion), you spoke with him through instant messaging and agreed to “try it out” but “keep it on the down low,” but honestly, Sans doesn't know what either of you mean by “it” and neither do you. Sans knows his best case scenario but will take anything so long as it doesn't ruin your friendship or hurt anyone, and you don't know what your best or worst case scenarios are, or what you want or what you even feel… which is why you're keeping it to yourselves. Should either of you announce you're dating(?), all of your friends will be way too excited about it. Knowing how everyone is, they'll probably push it by teasing you (Undyne will call you guys weird names and Alphys will draw “fan art” and Frisk will make naughty jokes and Toriel will act like a mother excited for her child's prom) or making “suggestions” (such as Papyrus's dating manual, though surely everyone will have their own input), and if it ends up not working out, more people will be upset than just the two of you.

This seemed like the best approach to the both of you – of course you'd both gleefully accept your family's enthusiasm and relentless teasing if you became comfortable in a relationship – and you were actually pretty excited to give this a try. The more you think about having a romantic relationship with Sans, the more you like the idea. Sans is hoping for an eventual life-partnership, with soul-bonding and all, and that's a big commitment; to make it work, you'll need to establish boundaries, understand what you need from each other, and not be afraid to communicate. A relationship formed impulsively will only last so long without actually knowing what the other wants, needs and feels, no matter how passionate it is, and you tell Sans as much.

Right now, wants and feelings are up in the air for the both of you, but he respects your needs, and his own are reasonable. For instance, monsters are familiar with polyamory, and soul-bonding can be done with multiple partners, but Sans would prefer to remain monogamous for the time being, and should you eventually open up to more partners, Sans would want to be your “main” mate. Neither of you are really interested in sexual or romantic relationships with other people at the moment, so you have no issue with his request.

You don't beat around the bush about sex, since sometimes bluntness is a blessing; you tell him you want to rattle his bones in any way he'll let you should he want it, but _only_ if he wants it. You're fine with waiting, or even just never doing it if he's not into it. He takes an extra long time to type his responses during this topic, and they're in the form of very long run-on sentences that are followed up with equally-long clarifications and corrections. He promises to tell you if he's uncomfortable as long as you do, too, and he makes a lot of not-so-subtle hints about really wanting to bone you in the process. You both also establish a safe word while you're at it. Nice, safety! You're going with the stoplight system.

You talk about a lot more than just those; you may be a little fussy and a little too worried, but can you be blamed for not wanting your relationship with your best friend to end in disaster? Especially when he's hoping for a lifetime thing. He doesn't seemed to be bothered by what seems to be an obsession with boundaries and communication, though, which makes your heart flutter a bit when you realize, wow, he really is serious about you. It says a lot, really; a partner who doesn't want to bother to go over safety, boundaries, wants and needs, or is bored or resentful of it, is a partner who isn't going to last long.

Maybe it's not as hard to fall in love with him as you thought it was. He'd better _stay_ serious about you, because now you're vulnerable, damn it.

* * *

 

It's been a few weeks. When you told him he could, Sans began to call you by pet names ranging from corny or saccharine to sentimental; “cinnabunny” to “my love”, “sweetcheeks” to “paramour”. He likes to try new ones at every opportunity, but he uses “sweetheart” the most frequently. You usually affectionately respond with “nerd”, but you've tried “bone boy” and “baby-bones”. You had said them as a joke, but he could tell without confirmation that his eyes were blindingly bright hearts as soon as he heard (or read) them. It makes him so happy, that he gets to call you endearing nicknames, that you respond with some of your own…

He never really “got” it, when couples were so disgusting for the sake of being disgusting; and in public, too! But now it makes sense. He wants to stay close to you and make sure you don't think for a second that he's not happy to be with you, he wants you to know you're treasured and he wants everyone else to see how happy he is with you. Of course, he doesn't go very far around other people, because he likes to think he's a decent person, and PDA is pretty disrespectful.

Although truthfully, if you didn't care, neither would he… if you suggested you both go and make out on live television, he'd probably be down for it.

Speaking of which, you've kissed, but hadn't gone further than that. That didn't stop Sans from longing for the day he gets to experience more; the taste of your mouth and the feeling of your tongue moving against his, you holding his body against yours with one hand bringing his skull close and the other running down his spine, him holding you back and pressing as close against you as he can get… Once again, he never understood the appeal of tongue-wrestling and the like until he found someone he wanted to be intimate with. He'd always thought human mouths were gross, although fascinating, but yours is just another part of you, and you're beautiful. And still very fascinating. Even morning breath doesn't deter him from wanting to kiss you, and your nuzzling and tittering as he peppers your face with smooches suggests that you're not getting sick of him yet.

The both of you are too nervous to have sex yet, though you've napped together many a time and uh, “talked dirty” once or twice. You usually do the latter when there's a distance, so, sexting, basically. Of course, it would be a lot more fun for you if you were able to tell just how into it Sans was, so one day, you proposed the idea of phone sex to him. He was still nervous, but it could help you get comfortable with each other, plus you'd be getting yourself off…

He told you he'd let you know when he had the house to himself. The mere thought of listening while you touch yourself had him struggling to keep his hand out of his pants, and you felt similarly.

* * *

 

“I've wanted to do this for a while,” you say sensually as you play with the waistband of your pants, your other hand holding your phone against your ear.

“god, me too,” he thought it was a safe enough response, but this whole thing was your idea after all… “i mean! like, wanted to do something like this in general. for a while.”

You laugh a bit. “Well, _tibia_ honest,” this pun is just standard for you guys now, “I've never done this before. I'm not really sure how to start…”

“you don't expect _me_ to know what to do, do you?” He'd be a little irritated if you did, but you laugh again.

“No, no, bonehead. Just… if I'm not good at it, there's why.”

It's his turn to laugh. “hearing your voice is enough for me, sweetheart. you could just tell me about your day.”

You smirk, and you're pretty sure your tone of voice gives that away when you say: “Yeah? My day was okay. I've been fantasizing about how you'd sound when you come since you told me you'd be alone today, and I'm pretty excited to find out.”

He takes a deep breath. “fuck, i…” Pause. “damn. is it okay if i… you know?” You hum, amused.

“If you're asking if you can get yourself off, that's why we're doing this, so of course.” You stick your own hand down your pants and get yourself started with a sigh. You lick your lips when you hear the shuffling of fabric and clacking of bone from the other line. You continue speaking when he stays silent (aside from his heavy breathing).

“As much as I'd like to touch you, as much as I think about it, I don't know what to do with a skeleton, hun. I'd really like to know how you like to be touched.”

“heh, that's easy. it's all about intent with monsters. you could, like, stick your finger in my eye socket and if you wanted to make me come i could.”

Your jaw drops at this revelation. You were so focused on his being a skeleton that you didn't think to look up how general monster sex works. “Really?”

He snorts at your awe. “really.”

The possibilities are endless.

“Would it be okay if I touched your eye sockets? 'Cause that sounds like, really cool.”

He's laughing now, your eagerness endearing. “uh, it'd be weird, but as long as you asked me first i guess?”

“Of course I'm not gonna go poking inside your skull without permission, babe. That's so cool though…”

“more private areas are naturally more sensitive, too. like uh, the inner side of my ribs, and my… pelvis.” 'Pelvis' is a little quiet as though he's saying something dirty. Hell, maybe it is dirty, but it's cute. “um, even my feet, as weird as it probably sounds? parts that are, uh, not… accessible, to everyone. it takes trust to expose them, so touching them is inherently intimate.”

“Awww.” He sputters. “aw what?” “It's cute.” He grumbles.

“thought we were gonna have phone sex. y'know, not exactly cute.”

“Why can't phone sex be cute?” You act offended.

This kind of conversation makes up about 70% of the phone call in the end, where you tease each other and learn what makes each other feel good before you actually get to the sex part.

“Okay, okay, I can do this. I can be sexy.”

He laughs. “you already are. wink.”

“Did you seriously just say 'wink' to signify you are winking.”

“well you can't exactly see me, so yeah.”

“Oh my god. You're such a nerd.”

“you're right. why am i winking when i should be wanking, right? wink wink.”

“Oh my _god_!” This fucking guy! You love him. “You're incredible. Oh my god. Stop, though.”

“i didn't kill the mood did i?” He's actually a little nervous about that. He doesn't really think before he starts joking and he still has a hand in his shorts.

“Surprisingly, no. Still raring to go, lucky for you.” He sighs in relief and you chuckle.

“Okay, shut up.” You clear your throat and try to kill your laughter in favor of a more seductive tone. “So, mind telling me uh, what you think about when you… like, what you want to do to me, what you imagine when you… touch y-… shit, I'm already fucking this up.” Sans seems amused, and decides to have mercy.

“i uh, think a lot about you um, giving yourself to me. ya know? like uh, not submissively, more like…” He trails off, hesitant.

“More like?” How can you not prod.

“like, uh, it sounds really stupid but um… fuck.”

“Pretend I'm not here. Pretend you're thinking out loud to yourself. It's not stupid if it makes you feel good.” Your voice is calm and reassuring, he loves it, he loves you.

“like you decided i've. been 'good' enough to. do what i want. with you. heh…”

You're silent for a few seconds as you think of how to respond, but you don't want to worry him so you don't give yourself much time. Which means you don't exactly end up talking well.

“You- wow. That's… I like that. That's what you're into?”

“…yes.”

“It's what you think about most?”

“…mhm.” He interrupts when you're about to respond, getting meeker and meeker. “that and uh. well, being called bad… god it's stupid, i'm sorry.”

“I told you it's not stupid, that sounds hot. Give me an example?”

He gulps and speaks fast. He tells you about a fantasy where you catch him jacking off and teasingly call him naughty, playfully shaming him for being so lewd. His phalanges are pressing down on his sensitive pubic bone as he speaks, fueling his lust and causing him to stutter. He admits to having messy orgasms and dreams of being lightly scolded for them. He tells you about the fantasy of you presenting your entrance to him as a reward and letting him do you doggy style. It's at this point you can hear a repetitive, wet sound that answers your question of how exactly he can have a messy orgasm in the first place.

“Mm, Sans, you're doing real good.” His arousal is fueling yours as you work on your own sweet spots, your pants kicked off by now.

“g-good, am i…?” He's panting.

“So good.” You realize what he's probably wanting to hear. “Such a good boy.” His panting gets harder and he whines. Holy fuck, this is better than you imagined.

“nn, i'm already so clooose…”

Damn, already? “Slow down, baby-bones, we just got started.”

“i'm so-orry, i can't, i can't stop…” The noises get more frantic, his whining higher, until he comes, and god damn. He's turned his head away from the phone so he doesn't scream directly into it (though monster phone audio quality is actually pretty good) but fuck, does it sound intense. It lasts long enough (and stimulates you well enough) that you manage to make yourself join him. Your noises of pleasure seem to make his even stronger.

After a moment you're both lying and panting, blissful, although it ended sooner than you would have liked.

He breaks the silence. “did you uh… wanna keep going then?”

What?

“Can you?” He laughs, a genuine but breathless bark of laughter.

“duh. i can probably go at least 2 more times. maybe 3. usually like 5.”

…Well if you had known that!

“Fuck, sorry bone boy, I need a break now, but that was really hot.”

“yeah, heh, it was.”

Uh, what do you say now?

“So uh. We should do that again sometime.”

“hell yeah.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i could have had this finished yesterday but it turns out the longer i go without having a bpd episode the more likely i am to "act out" so i did lol and all yesterday and this morning i could think of nothing but stressful things
> 
> I wouldn't say my life is going to shit but it's extremely stressful and people seem to think it'd be unfair for me to ask them to give me a break (people hate the idea of accommodating other people's disabilities)  
> when I have an emotional breakdown, can't have fun doing anything, or spend most of my time sleeping, well, Milkynubs, that's your problem, not mine! Don't take it out on me! I'm just expressing my opinion! I'm just giving you advice! No need to overreact!  
> Just the other day I had to hold back from taking a random comment too personally and man can you imagine how livid I was when the response I got was the shit I hear all the time, the shit my DBT classes say is manipulative, the good ol' “you're taking it too personally” and “you are overreacting”  
> but I still managed to hold back! That's something to be proud of, but neurotypicals have me feeling inadequate. My best looks like my worst. I'm trying my damnedest when years ago i'd have thrown my dignity out the window to go on a full-blown public rant. It's so so invalidating when people decide your best isn't good enough for them, so please do me a favor and never ever tell anyone they're taking something too personally or are overreacting. They can't help being offended, but you can help being a little more sensitive about sensitive topics. I can assure you that emotional anguish feels way worse than mild annoyance at having to be a little gentler with a stranger.  
> im sorry I needed to vent? My friends and followers get it but like... I think it's pretty important to have reminders like these on ao3 as well maybe? Like hello, im mentally ill, I exist, I make stories on the internet, I use the internet like a “normal” person, i'm not a myth, fancy that.
> 
> So anyway I still want to write but I want to write more self-indulgent things at the moment. Fics that directly have me inserted as a character, and/or things related to my otherkin-types, and/or things involving mental illness, or more comfort fics like baby doll. As long as my fics aren't labeled as “abandoned” or something similar, and as long as i'm still kudosing and commenting things on ao3, i'm not dead, my fics aren't dead, I just can't force myself to write things to please other people right now (at least not for free......wiggles eyebrows)  
> so yeah hope you understand and thanks for reading if you did! (and if you didn't no problem my pal I type too much and overshare it's a thing i do accept me for who i am or Go)

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer that not all asexual, aromantic, demisexual, demiromantic, acespec or arospec people experience attraction the same way and that sans's experiences in this story are written to be unique to sans (not that people can't or don't experience it this way but basically this fic isn't a What Being Demi Is Like fic it's just. a sans fic)


End file.
